I Was Just a Child

At 19, I met my first husband. We were married just eight months later, and I had my first baby a few days after our first anniversary. Now, with an 18-year-old daughter, I realize how much less capable I was at her age. I was a baby myself, and looking back, I wish I hadn’t placed so much weight on getting married ASAP. It was something I was rewarded for, (by my family, friends, community) but it left me without the chance to explore who I truly was or what I wanted from life.

We were married for almost 10 years and had four children together. From the start, we knew he had a problem with pornography, but in 2005, (a time I refer to as the dark ages) we didn’t really know what to call it. Our church leaders encouraged us to get married, thinking that having sex would magically resolve his "issues." Spoiler alert: they didn’t. In fact, they got worse.

Six months into our marriage, I was a few months pregnant with our first child, and his acting out was escalating. We were living in Rexburg, Idaho, going to college, and I remember taking a weekend trip back home to Beaverton, Oregon. I was seriously considering ending the marriage. I didn’t want to be a single mom, and the thought of starting a career, raising a child, and dealing with the judgment from our families felt impossible. I’m not sure I consciously thought through all of that, but I spent the weekend crying, talking, and praying. In the end, I went back, determined not to think about it anymore because it didn’t seem like I had any other options.

Even though I love my kids and wouldn’t change having them, I can’t help but wonder how different my life might have been if I’d been encouraged to think for myself. If I’d been taught about boundaries, made decisions in my best interest, and not just conformed to the ideals of my family, religion, and society. I wanted to appear a certain way—a good daughter who wouldn’t bring the shame of divorce on her seemingly perfect family, a good religious person who wouldn’t disappoint God by not forgiving and divorcing because life is hard… boohoo… everyone struggles, right?

What I couldn’t understand at the time was that these dynamics—family, church, societal expectations—were damaging to my core being. They took away my voice, my choice. I thought I was making decisions, but really, I was just following the script. I wasn’t aware that I could be a separate, autonomous person with my own needs, hopes, and individuality that went beyond my likes and dislikes. If I’d had the space to explore myself in the ways that are developmentally appropriate for teens and young adults, I probably would have made much different choices.

So, I stayed married for almost 10 years. We got married in May of 2005, and our divorce was finalized in January of 2015. There was therapy, boundaries, separations, me desperately trying to figure out how to support someone who didn’t want to take accountability for his choices. He wanted a magic pill to fix him, but what he never realized—at least while we were married—was that he was the magic pill.

He had a victim mentality, shaped by some childhood experiences that facilitated his addiction. I now understand that he likely believed something outside of himself wounded him, so something outside of himself would fix him—whether it was me, our kids, or therapy. But nothing changed. He acted out the night before our wedding and told me the morning of. He reassured me everything was ok and he confessed to our bishop, so all was well, nothing to worry about. I was devastated, probably had a panic attack, and my mom convinced me to just go through with it. Admittedly I didn’t give her all the information and she was just doing what she thought was best, but I didn’t want to get married to him; I wanted to call it off. But all the preparations, the money spent, the family who traveled to witness this special day… It all weighed so heavy on my decision. The outside influences were so heavy it didn't take long to shut-up my inner voice and charge ahead. The day that was supposed to be the best day of my life, was tainted. And guess what? We never spoke of it again because I had to forgive and forget to be in good standing with God and I desperately wanted to be a good wife.

We thought having kids would create motivation to change. It didn’t. We thought going to an expensive college that was his passion would fulfill him enough that he wouldn’t need the addiction anymore. It didn’t. Therapy didn’t work either. Our therapist even put me in the role of accountability partner, making it my job to always be available to talk him down so he wouldn’t act out—that rarely worked. It actually made our relationship dynamic worse because my efforts weren't enough. We thought separation might help him see the direction we were headed if things didn’t change. It didn’t. Medication for anxiety and depression? Nope. Moving closer to his family so he’d have more support? Still nothing. There was no magic pill, nothing ever changed while we were married.

I was expected to carry it all—not only the responsibility of being enough for him to stop acting out and recover from his addiction, but also the traditional "women's roles" at home and raising kids- we had 4 in less than 6 years. Then pile on top of that financially picking up the slack because holding down a job was difficult for him at times, even though we both agreed he’d be the provider. Now, I understand that roles can evolve, and I’m able to balance all the roles I choose and value. But back then, there was no space for me to have an identity outside of the "norms" we both assumed we’d follow, and the extra expectations I had to pick up in order for our relationship and family to survive.

Looking back now, I realize how much I’ve grown since those early years. I’ve learned that my voice matters and that I have the right to make decisions based on my own needs and desires, not just what others expect of me. I’ve come to understand that autonomy isn’t something that’s given to you—it’s something you have to claim for yourself. If I could talk to my younger self, I’d tell her, “You’re stronger and more capable than you realize. Don’t be afraid to stand up for what you want, even if it goes against what others expect. Life is not something to hurry through and check all the boxes, there's so much more to it than that. Your life is yours to live, and you deserve to live it fully, with your own voice leading the way.”

Were there moments when you silenced your own needs or desires to fit into a role that wasn’t truly yours? It’s never too late to reclaim your voice and start living in alignment with your true self.

I’m still on this journey of learning about myself and claiming my voice and autonomy. I’m not an expert, but I enjoy hearing people’s stories as they unfold. So, at the risk of looking like a complete fool, I invite you to join me on this crazy journey of healing from betrayal trauma and finding a path of post-traumatic growth as I learn more about myself.